


this worthless pride of mine

by Miyukitty



Series: SASOikawa 2017 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!, Loveless
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst and Feels, Blood, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Insecurity, M/M, Names, Partnership, Past Abuse, Psychological Trauma, SASO 2017, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:58:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyukitty/pseuds/Miyukitty
Summary: Written for the prompt:kageyama probably still has his ears. oikawa probably does not. but one thing is for certain: this fighter/sacrifice unit feels like it was made in hell. a Loveless AU





	this worthless pride of mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sumaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumaru/gifts).



> a nasty catboy gift for lin that made us both wail at all these dreadful implications. i didn't look up any of the source material but there sure are a lot of allusions to canon. :);;;; was done for as soon as i put oikawa in soubi's role ~~and i didnt even do the earring scene~~. 
> 
> some sideships mentioned briefly; one character painfully not mentioned at all. general warning, loveless AU means angst with no happy ending! enjoy~ :,)

  


Tooru's hands trembled as he fumbled with the lighter. The floor was cold, and it was too dark to see what he was doing. He dropped it and cursed under his breath. Bruised fingers groped blindly until he found it again, and clutched it tight. It took several attempts before it sputtered to life, the weak flame washing his face too pale.

  
  
A blank Sacrifice – this was as far as he could go without a name, he supposed. He could take any Fighter and draw out their strength, lead them to victory, but victory was hollow indeed when it left him like _this_. He took a long, shaky drag from his cigarette, and closed his eyes against the soft glow of the ember. 

  


His body wouldn't stop shivering. It was so cold. He curled in on himself, desperate for warmth. There was a smear of red left on his shirt collar like a lover's lipstick, only that wasn't where it came from and his throat still stung like it was yesterday. There was a dull ache in his bones, a persistent longing to return to a heart he no longer had a place in. 

  


His Fighter had found their true name. He had no Fighter anymore.

  
  
Tooru couldn't even blame him. If he had a perfect partner out there, someone to trust with his life, he would never want anyone else either. He was a fucking idiot for thinking his devotion could make a partnership with him anything but temporary. He was a substitute.

  
  
Without a destined name, Oikawa Tooru was easily discarded.

  


* * *

  
  
"So this is the famous Kageyama Tobio," Tooru leered.

  
  
The boy's catlike ears pressed flat against his head, eyes narrowed in a suspicious glare.

  
  
The park was full of witnesses in broad daylight, but so far, no one had stopped to question what was happening between the two strangers. Let them try and interfere, Tooru thought viciously, and gripped Tobio's arm a little harder than he needed to. 

  


Tooru's teeth were bared in some semblance of a hungry smile as he maneuvered Tobio a step backward, just to see if he could. Tobio bumped his back against a tree and scowled.

  
  
"Who are you," the boy demanded, unafraid. His lashing tail betrayed his agitation, and he tried to yank his arm free, but not before Tooru saw what he needed to.

  
  
_Flightless_.

  
  
The name was scrawled along the inside of Tobio's wrist, bold black ink contrasting delicate blue veins. This was the one _they_ were looking for. They would be here soon to collect him, the same way they'd collected Tooru all those years ago. They would train him to be the perfect Fighter: use him up and bleed him dry, until they found a new genius to replace him and continue the endless cycle.

  
  
This time Tooru felt like getting in their way.

  
  
_Well, flightless hardly seems like a destiny worth chasing, anyway,_ Tooru thought defiantly. _I have my own plans but I need a Fighter. I can give you wings, Tobio. If you'll let me._

  
  
"I'm your Sacrifice," Tooru declared. He had nothing left to lose.

  
  
Tobio sputtered in surprise, cheeks coloring pink.

  
  
Tooru's neck throbbed in protest. He ignored it.

  


* * *

  
  
The first pair that came to reclaim Tobio – _Pridefulness_ scrawled spider-like across the palms of their hands – weren't very strong. They were his age, probably sent in an attempt to befriend him; they weren't expecting a fight.

  
  
They certainly weren't expecting Oikawa.

  
  
"Kageyama-kun should come with us to Karasuno! He should find his true partner," the Fighter cried. He was a plain, gangly thing with freckles and wide, anxious eyes. "You're only holding him back!"

  
  
His Sacrifice, a bespectacled boy with a cynical glare and far too much height for his age, said nothing. It might have been his injured pride, after trying to goad Tobio into anger and watching it backfire. It might have also been because Tobio's wordspell left him gagged and face-down in the dirt.

  
  
Tobio really was a genius Fighter – it was his first duel and he barely knew the rules, but he'd still torn apart this pair with their matching names and their spear and shield combination. Tooru had barely suffered a single penalty.

  
  
Tooru walked toward them with slow, measured steps. The blond Sacrifice muffled a whimper, unable to move with the absolute restrictions chaining his body. Tooru knew what it felt like to lose in such a humiliating way, but there was no pity to be found in his proud smile. Tobio had done so well.

  
  
The Fighter curled protectively over his Sacrifice, eyes shining bright with unshed tears.

  
  
"Kageyama-kun was born with a name! A destiny! You can't strip him of what he was born to be—"

  
  
The sniveling Fighter stuttered into silence as Tooru crouched over him. He hooked a finger under the terrified boy's chin, and leaned in close to whisper.

  
  
"Little brats with your little ears," Tooru hissed. "Run along home and tell them Flightless is a complete unit now, and cannot – will not – belong to Karasuno. They'll have to kill me first."

  


* * *

  
  
Sometimes Tooru was allowed to spend the night on the floor of Tobio's sparsely decorated bedroom. If he scaled the wall quietly enough, if he behaved himself, if he got hurt in a fight and needed care, if Tobio was in a charitable mood – sometimes the sullen, hesitant invitation would come.

  


And Tooru insisted on playing the nuisance at every opportunity – complaining about the borrowed clothes and microwaved food, the toothbrush he had to stash somewhere Tobio's parents wouldn't find, the bathroom all the way at the end of the hall where he couldn't shower or do his hair until everyone left for work. He wasn't allowed to call it home. He did not have a home. 

  


And other nights Tooru would rather skulk about the abandoned house at the end of the street, with its cold floors and broken windows and comforting emptiness, and smoke his stolen cigarettes until the sun rose again. Being alone was easier, even if sleep never came.

  
  
Tooru wasn't sure yet whether tonight would be warm or cold, for him. He was still too proud to just ask.

  
  
The pair sat in silence at the foot of the bed, picking at leftovers they'd snuck away from the kitchen. Tooru was still mulling over their latest duel – a pair of girls in high school uniforms had challenged them, the name _Limitless_ in spiraling cursive along each of their clavicles. They were stronger than the last few Karasuno recruiters. The Fighter with the sunny blonde hair and cute hairclips had been imaginative with her flourishing spells and clever vocabulary. 

  


She was also the one to break and cry when she failed to protect her Sacrifice from Tobio.

  
  
Tooru could still feel the phantom weight of the chains that had restricted him, and the real bruises underneath his jacket. Tobio was getting reckless, although his pinpoint accuracy had not faltered once. Slowly, mechanically, he continued eating. It didn't matter what happened to him as long as they kept winning.

  
  
Tooru adjusted the glasses perched on his nose with an amused smile. The girlish frame was a little small for his face, but he'd popped the lenses out when he took them so he could wear them anyway. His neck throbbed, and without thinking, he raised his hand to scratch at the bandaging.

  
  
His fingertips came away wet. He wiped it on the bed sheets and went back to his meal.

  


* * *

  
  
Karasuno ambushed them. It took all afternoon to shake the assailants marked _Indomitable_. The pair's diminutive but spirited Sacrifice had been especially troublesome; no matter how Tobio bound and lashed him, he refused to yield so long as his powerful Fighter kept on attacking. 

  


Tooru had been forced to endure a dizzying amount of pain in order to outlast their stamina and suffocate the Sacrifice. Only once the little one was crumpled on the ground, breath stolen from his lungs, did the bearded Fighter's will break for good.

  
  
Tooru was strangely proud of how laser-focused on victory Tobio had been. He hadn't needed any guidance. It was exactly how Tooru would have played it, had their roles been reversed.

  
  
_That's right, don't worry about me. Just hit it until it breaks, Tobio-chan._

  
  
Night had already fallen by the time they reached the safety of the bedroom. Limping and battered, Tooru had collapsed onto Tobio as soon as they reached the bed. He was trembling with fatigue, breath drawn in quick, ragged panting. Their hearts were hammering against each other, erratic, exhausted from adrenaline. 

  


Tobio lay stiff underneath his awkward jumble of limbs. Tooru was surprised when, instead of demanding he sleep on the floor, Tobio silently pulled the blanket over them both.

  
  
They had never connected so seamlessly in battle before. It had been too close a match. He was so tired, so cold, and Tobio's hesitant touch was so warm. That was why this was okay, Tooru reasoned as he leaned into the hands stroking him. They had never come so close to losing each other before.

  
  
They were both too tired to say anything. Fur brushed against his leg as Tobio's tail waved gently underneath the comforter. Long fingers played with the soft waves of his hair. Tooru made a soft, needy noise as he leaned into every touch. He felt exactly when the hands in his hair stalled, and knew Tobio was thinking about where his cat ears would have been, if he still had them.

  
  
These were gentler hands than he was accustomed to.

  
  
He wasn't sure when he slipped into unconsciousness, but when Tooru woke the next morning, warm and well rested, he was curled around Tobio. His face was nestled into the soft fuzz at the nape of his neck, one arm protectively around his waist. 

  


Tobio sighed in his sleep, barely stirring as his tail curled around Tooru's leg.

  
  
Tooru's heart stuttered over a beat. He was the same pathetic, devoted fool he'd always been. It was going to hurt so much more this time around.

  
  
"What will you do when your real Sacrifice finds you," he whispered into Tobio's skin.

  
  
He should have slept on the floor.

  


* * *

  
  
"Why does it do that?" Tobio finally asked. "Why does your neck bleed?"

  
  
Tooru's smile was a bitter, broken thing when he noticed Tobio's eyes lingering on the freshly stained bandages around his throat. He tilted his chin back, obliging him a better view of the red blossoming against white.

  
  
Tobio's dark, prying eyes were no longer as innocent as they'd been. He had a taste for this world. His fingers twitched at his sides, as though he wanted nothing more than to peel back the dressing and see the raw skin that lay underneath.

  
  
And if Tobio moved, Tooru did not know if he could bear it – if he was ready for those exposed nerves to be touched by a hand other than the one that claimed him with a knife. He would never be ready. But Tooru did not detect a trace of pity in his tone, and for that, he gave an honest answer.

  
  
"Because every time we fight together, I'm going against my name. It's a punishment I'm willing to bear."

  
  
"I thought you didn't have a name. I don't understand," Tobio admitted.

  
  
Tooru gave a dry laugh. "What else is new, Tobio-chan?"

  
  
"No, I mean… I don't understand why you keep fighting against Karasuno. If it hurts you. Is it about me?"

  
  
Tooru's brittle smile did not reach his eyes.

  
  
"It's about them _wanting_ you," he corrected. "It's about them taking everything they want just because they want it. But now they can't have you, as long as I'm still alive."

  
  
There was a long pause as he let his words sink in.

  
  
Tooru could feel Tobio's impossibly dark gaze boring a hole through him, but the silence stretched between them unbroken.

  
  
"You get one more question," Tooru huffed, and crossed his arms.

  
  
Tobio tilted his head as he considered it carefully. He was beginning to think about his words more, now that he was understanding the power they held. He would only continue to improve. 

  


Tooru studied him as he nodded to himself, settling on the most accurate course.

  
  
"If I give you my name, will it stop hurting you to be with me?"

  
  
Tooru did not answer.

  


* * *

  
  
Tobio's hands were clumsy, but he blundered on with good intentions as he dabbed at each cut and scrape along Tooru's battered body. The washcloth was thoughtfully kept warm. He was always learning, always watching. He stroked Tooru's hair to calm him as he grew too tense, too vulnerable under his ministrations.

  
  
He knew too much, Tooru thought resentfully.

  
  
He knelt between Tooru's trembling legs as his hands finally settled in the hollow of Tooru's throat. He gingerly unwound the ruined bandages, but Tooru did not move. He wanted to be anywhere but perched on the edge of Tobio's bathtub, getting nursed back to health.

  
  
"There's no point to washing that. Hurry up already," Tooru gritted through his teeth.

  
  
There was copper in his mouth. He glared up at the bathroom ceiling, and dug his fingernails into the meat of his thigh as a distraction. He ached for the burn of a cigarette in his lungs. His heart thudded against his ribs, too fast, too hard. Everything hurt equally.

  
  
Tobio stilled.

  
  
"This isn't your real name," he said, dropping the dirty linens to the bathroom tiles.

  
  
Tooru forced a weak laugh to cover the way his breath hitched.

  
  
The washcloth tinged pink at the first touch. His exposed throat was inflamed angry red, swollen around the letters carved into his hide like a garish necklace. He was born without a name, but he'd been given one by the Fighter that had just challenged them.

  
  
That Fighter, and his true Sacrifice, the one destined for him, the one that had just beaten him within an inch of his miserable life. Maybe they would have finished him off properly if Tobio hadn't intervened. He would live to fight another day, now.

  
  
"Say it," Tooru whispered. "You might like how it feels on your tongue."

  
  
Tobio shook his head with a frown.

  
  
"No," he refused simply. "You're not. You're not _Worthless_."

  
  
Tooru steadfastly refused to meet Tobio's eyes until the bandages were replaced, and the wounds that never healed were once again hidden from view. He was scowling, but neither of them mentioned the quiver in his lower lip, the too-bright shine in his stubborn gaze. He didn't know how not to be the same trusting fool he'd always been.

  
  
He reached out, then, and took Tobio's wrist between his fingers like he had the day they met. It was gentle this time as he drew Tobio's arm to him. He felt no resistance in return.

  
  
Tooru pressed his lips to the name branded on Tobio's skin. The pulse on the inside of his wrist fluttered against Tooru's kiss. It was fleeting. As his eyes flicked up and got caught in Tobio's intense gaze, Tooru wondered bitterly how long it would be before this one discarded him, too.

  
  
"Never forget, Tobio-chan. I'm not _Flightless_ , either."


End file.
